Of Fears, Scams and a Song

by Jerry Waxman

Sderot is known mostly for the kassams, the rocket attacks on a civilian population by Arab extremists in Gaza over the past 9 years. I have a thing about over-exploitation of victimhood. It doesn’t sit well with me that every visitor to Sderot is treated to a tour of how Sderot has suffered, while little if anything is ever said of how Sderot has overcome the difficulties. When every newspaper article about Sderot includes an interview or two with a suffering resident, somehow I think the newspaper is scamming the victims.

It has been months since there has been attacks of any consequence. People are enjoying the quiet. So it pisses me off a little when recent news articles emphasize only the “fear” and “apprehension” people feel in Sderot, not knowing when the next attacks will begin. BULL-ONEY!

Then again, there was an article that brought up a point I’ve overlooked. People ARE afraid. People have been affected by years of on and off rocket storms. Some kids still suffer attention deficit, and many people are still too afraid to sleep in their upstairs bedrooms, keeping their entire families huddled in safe rooms all night. Insomnia, nervous tension, job-loss due to disabilities — they are real in Sderot.

Looking back to when I said, “Shalom” to the cat lady, and she appeared unsettled and nervous. Certainly she has had enough to cause her chronic fear – and the kittens on her lap and sides bring her comfort. So, while I still think the newpapers overdo the victims angle, there really are victims who are not scamming us.

There are foreign workers in Sderot. Some work in factories. Sometimes you’ll see an Asian worker caring for an elderly person. My roommate – who often deals with volunteers – had a meeting in my home with one such foreign worker; a Filipina who cares for an old lady.

The Filipina was in a bind. She had borrowed money from a friend in Tel Aviv some time ago. She has already paid back half the money. Suddenly, her friend wants her to pay everything back plus interest – 10% per month. There is even a lawyer with an Arabic name calling her, and calling the old lady employer, threatening to have the naive Filipina deported.

After hearing the main parts of the story, I told the Filipina to pay her friend when she can, and don’t pay the lawyer – short and simple. Since the Filipina has a legal visa from her employer, the lawyer has no authority to have her deported. In other words, it’s a scam.

Foreign workers are another part of Israel life – and the life in Sderot. There are reports that many were scammed by agencies that bring them here and then extract usurious amounts from the workers’ paychecks every month. Apparently, some foreign workers are targets of scam artists. Of equal concern is that some scam artists may be related to extremists over in Gaza.

On Friday, I went to a popular bakery in the early afternoon to pick up bread before Shabbat. At the time I went there, half the shelves were already cleared, as Shabbat customers tend to come fast and furious in the morning. But there were still some little challot (little braided breads) and pitas.

A fellow with a knitted kipah was standing next to me, putting little challot in a plastic bag. He was a tallish, oblong man with a somewhat oversized pouch, and he was not in the least nervous or in a hurry. He hummed a tune as he filled his plastic bags.

I asked him what song he was singing. He said it was a song about “Avinu Shebeshamaim.” (G-d in Heaven). I said, “He has a lot of songs, but I’ve never heard this one before. It’s a nice song.” And I meant it. The fellow not only seemed to be calmly singing in anticipation of the Sabbath, he had a nice voice.

Later while waiting in line at the counter, I told him he should sing some more and they will give him a discount. So he started singing the same tune again. I was thinking of asking if he knew the Karaoke Guy – and would give him lessons in keeping a melody – but I refrained.

Instead, as I left, as I said, “Shabbat Shalom,” he extended his hand and invited me to his house for Shabbat.

I pause here for effect. . . . . What a Jewish thing to do! He had never seen me before, didn’t know me, I didn’t know him, and the only things we knew about each other were that we both liked the little challot, and both appreciated a good tune, and both were Jewish. Yet, in Sderot, where people have a right to harbor suspicions about strangers, and fears about everyday life, here was a man offering another man – a complete stranger – a place in his home for Shabbat.

The man’s name is Natan. I didn’t go to his house. But it’s nice to know such a man lives in this town.

Tagged with: About Israel • About Sderot • extremists • fear • Gaza • Jewish • kassams • rockets • Sabbath • Shabat

Filed under: About Israel • About Sderot

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